I'm one of those people who kinda looked forward to turning thirty. It's a nice round number. Thirty is when all your twenty-something restlessness flies off somewhere, when you can tear it up downtown or stay home with wine and whatever your weird hobby is.
Yesterday, however, I had a real Benjamin Button moment, took stock and began to wonder if I was actually my age. I mean, who's broke, house-less and writing off society at twenty-nine? I was a tat, a piercing and a missed shower shy of gutter punk.
I hoped that, today, the world would be done mocking me.
It is not.
I am currently trapped on a casino terrace under a dirty sky watching a man pee.
It's 3pm on a Thursday.
Yesterday, however, I had a real Benjamin Button moment, took stock and began to wonder if I was actually my age. I mean, who's broke, house-less and writing off society at twenty-nine? I was a tat, a piercing and a missed shower shy of gutter punk.
I hoped that, today, the world would be done mocking me.
It is not.
I am currently trapped on a casino terrace under a dirty sky watching a man pee.
It's 3pm on a Thursday.
2 comments:
If you combine us we become 1 gutter punk
Can we become Captain Planet instead? I like him.
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